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Updated: May 19, 2025
"And I am not going to discuss such things with you. But I should like to know why you set spies on me when I was in Devonshire?" Chaldea's eyes sparkled still more, and she taunted him. "Oh, the clever one that you are, to know that I had you watched. Aye, and I did, my rye. From the time you left the cottage you were under the looks of my people." "Why, may I ask?"
And, like Lord Burleigh's celebrated nod, Chaldea's wink could convey volumes. At all events, Lambert and his companion were unmolested, and arrived in due course before the royal palace. A croaking voice announced that the queen was inside her Arab tent, and she was crooning some Romany song. Chaldea did not open her mouth, but simply snapped her fingers twice or thrice rapidly.
I want you," interrupted Chaldea, her breast heaving, and looking sullenly wrathful. "Then you can't have me. Why should you think of me in this silly way? We were very good friends, and now you have spoiled everything. I can never have you to sit for me again." Chaldea's lip drooped. "Never again? Never again?" "No. It is impossible, since you have chosen to act in this way.
She loved him too much to approve of his careless leave-taking, and therefore she frowned darkly, as she turned her attention to Chaldea. The girl saw that Miss Greeby was annoyed, and guessed the cause of her annoyance. The idea that this red-haired and gaunt woman should love the handsome Gorgio was so ludicrous in Chaldea's eyes that she laughed in an ironical fashion.
And, no doubt, he was as attached to his instrument as any mother could be to her child. It was not difficult for Miss Greeby to guess that this weird, hairy dwarf was the Servian gypsy Kara, of whom Lambert had spoken. She took advantage of the knowledge to be disagreeable to the girl. "Is this your husband?" asked Miss Greeby amiably. Chaldea's eyes flashed and her cheeks grew crimson.
"So you did shoot the Romany, my bold one," was her victorious speech. "Because the bullet fits the barrel of a revolver I gave to my cousin some twelve months ago?" he inquired, smiling. Chaldea's face fell. "Twelve months ago!" she echoed, greatly disappointed. "Yes, as Lord Garvington can swear to. So I could not have used the weapon on that night, you see."
Mother Cockleshell, delighted to see that she had made an impression, climbed on to the gray donkey and made a progress through the camp. Passing by Chaldea's caravan she spat on it and muttered a word or so, which did not indicate that she wished a blessing to rest on it.
The very fact that Pine was a Romany, and was on his native heath, appealed to Lambert as a reason why he should not seek out the man immediately, as he almost felt inclined to do, in order to forestall Chaldea's story.
"Carmen was and José wasn't. She danced herself into his heart." Chaldea's eyes flashed, and she made a hasty sign to attract the happy omen of his saying to herself. "Kushto bak," cried Chaldea, using the gypsy for good luck. "And to me, to me," she clapped her hand. "Hark, my golden rye, and watch me dance your love into my life."
Feeling that the old woman detested her successful rival, Miss Greeby approached, guessing that now was the right moment to work on her mind, and thus to learn what she could of Chaldea's underhand doings. She quite expected a snub, as Gentilla could scarcely be expected to answer questions when taken up with her own troubles.
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